The Truth Behind Truths
by SaberAlchemist
Summary: YYH/FMA/HP x-over. The truth may well be that Harry Potter must die, Kurama and Yusuke must find out. And what is alchemy? Can it, and these two practitioners, help kill two birds with one stone? And maybe save a life? ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

Foreword: Firstly, this story is not being produced for commercial purposes and no characters are my own, but rather owned by whoever it is that happens to have the rights. Secondly, to anyone who may happen to read this story, my purpose in doing this was not only to make a crossover but also to explore the characters involved in a way that is both interesting and faithful to their natures, so don't expect a lot of non-canon pairings and the like. Thirdly, this story will be fairly AU for YYH and FMA, in that Yusuke is not yet an all-powerful Toshin and instead of ending up in 1920's-30's Germany after the creation of the Stone, Ed and his father are in HP land (FMA-verse is based off of the first anime for the purposes of this story, although _Brotherhood_ also rocks). Fourthly, I won't be changing much of what happens in the world of HP, rather the FMA and YYH story-lines will take place kind of like sub-plots. Finally, I am planning on organizing this story by jumping from a YYH character to a FMA character to an HP character from chapter to chapter, so for example, I will begin with Kurama and probably proceed in Chapter 2 to Edward Elric; although I may change this.

xXx

Chapter 1: Misplaced Enthusiasms

Sitting at his desk, by the window that faced east, in the bedroom of the house that belonged to his mother, the young man with long, crimson red hair and bottle green eyes appeared to be drafting an essay for his World History class. Still, there was more to him than his appearance because he was, in fact, despairing in an abyss of mental and physical stagnation. Indeed, many things within his life that had, at one point, held his interest had now lost their captivating luster. His school work, which he would tell you had never been much of a test for his rather brilliant mind, had lost all of its invigorating challenge now that Kaito, his main academic rival, could not mathematically make up their GPA difference. His younger step-brother, Shuuichi, was not going through a particularly scintillating phase or, at least, he did not feel that obsessing over a game that consisted of electronically simulated fighters engaging in a fictional tournament of skill was at all interesting. Of course, his indifference in regards to the video game might have had something to do with his having experienced the real thing on more than a few occasions. Speaking of which, his usual sparring partner and long-time friend, Hiei, was nowhere to be found lately. Apparently, he was too busy spending time in the Makai to find time for their usual amusements – both a pity and a pain if you asked him. Thus, it was that the being known alternately as Shuichi Minamino, Kurama, or Youko – a thousand-year-old demon bandit hidden away in the body of a human teenager – was in the rather embarrassing situation of being bored. And the worst part was that he could not comprehend a way to break the bonds of his boredom. _He_, the most intelligent creature he knew of, could not think of anything interesting to do with his time!

Given his present, humiliating state of being, it gave him an abnormal feeling of relief to glimpse in his peripheral vision a pink and blue dot floating high in the sky outside his window. A blue-haired young woman named Botan, the Chief Ferry Girl of the River Styx and Assistant to the Spirit World Detectives, was on her way to inform him of the next mission that he, probably along with one or more of his three fellow spirit detectives – Yusuke Urameshi, Kazuma Kuwabara, and Hiei Jaganshi – would undertake to enforce the laws and physical integrity of the Spirit World. Normally, these missions were distractions from his more intriguing, or at least more pertinent, personal life. At this particular juncture, however, his enthusiasm for his personal life was waning and a mission sounded preferable. Thus it was that the sight of Botan spurred him into action.

He set his paper aside and rose from his seat. He then opened the window and stepped aside, waiting for the bubbly Botan to zoom through the opening on her flying oar. She did indeed arrive with a flourish, flipping from the oar and landing gracefully in the center of the room before magically vanishing the floating maritime instrument with a dramatic puff of smoke. She waved and grinned at him prior to speaking.

"Hello, Kurama! Lovely day; isn't it?" she said.

"Indeed, Botan, the sun is good for the plants." He replied. "May I inquire as to your purpose in privileging me with your presence?"

"Say that again…"

He sighed imperceptivity, "I agree, it is lovely. What are you doing here?"

"That's what I thought you said!" she replied, grinning. "Koenma has a super secret mission for you and Yusuke, I'm here to pick you up and take you to Koenma so he can tell you about it personally."

Kurama's face was indifferent, yet inside his subconscious the fox in him was doing cartwheels. This mission would definitely be interesting. "Very well, I do not have much to occupy me presently."

"Wonderful! You're taking this much better than Yusuke!" She said with no small amount of relief.

"I would imagine – he is never enthusiastic about these missions." He replied knowingly. "So you already picked him up?"

"Oh yes, early this morning. Koenma wanted to see you two separately for some reason"

"Interesting…"

"Oh well, it's just Koenma! Shall we go?"

"Certainly." He smiled at her care free response. She had her own unique charm he supposed. "We would not want to keep him waiting."

"OK! Let's go!"

With a large puff the oar reappeared in her hand. She sat upon the oar and he joined her somewhat tepidly – Botan had a tendency to fly recklessly. With a whoosh and an out of character four letter remark from Kurama, they were off at Hermes-like speeds towards the Spirit World.

xXx

Being steered through the stratosphere as he was, with a kind of abandon that was so blatant that it could only be alarming, he naturally felt unkind things toward his pilot, the fairy girl Botan. How she could manage to enjoy this, he knew not. He for one was nauseated and desperately worried. You see his hair was flying about in a cacophonous swirl of red that looked rather like a flickering candle, putting his precious seeds, which were both his weapons and prized possessions in danger, since he stored them in his mane. He prayed to the fox gods that it would end soon, and that he would not lose too many seeds.

Finally, as they pushed through a particularly chilling cloud bank, he spied the castle in the sky, which housed the godling he had agreed to see. The building was a truly massive structure, with stone walls covered with brilliant white stucco, few windows, and a massive, likely impregnable door. It was proof that even the gods prized function over beauty, since it rather looked like an oversized Japanese garden shed. He shuddered at the sight of it – he certainly would never live there.

"We're here, Kurama!" said Botan in her sing-song fashion.

"Indeed, Botan, it is a pleasure to have arrived," said Kurama, too polite to directly criticize the ride. He brushed his hair through with his fingers quickly, noting that he had lost no important seeds, and smiled as they landed by the entrance. "I certainly am interested to hear what Koenma's assignment is."

"Me too," she replied.

"You mean you do not know," he said with the mildest hint of credulity.

"No, he said it was so top secret I would have to find out with you," she said.

"How interesting," he said, his subconscious fox even more jittered with excitement. "After you."

Botan opened the doors magically, with a wave of her hand, and they entered the hallway that looked like a throat, journeying into the very bowels of the Spirit World.

xXx

Koenma's office was, as usual, a case study in bureaucratic confusion. Ogres varying in color from blue to green to yellow, some with horns and some without, some in shirts and ties, others in loin cloths, were bustling about every which way with papers that needed signing, files that required reviewing, letters that awaited addressing, and all the other accoutrements of office space. At the center of this milieu was a desk at which Koenma, the Prince of the Spirit World, sat. His toddler-like form looked appropriately absurd; situated as it was in a leather chair that would have been too big for Kurama's much taller figure. Upon noticing Kurama and Botan, which took several moments, Koenma exercised one of his more petulant tools of authority – he yelled.

"OUT! George, Ogres, everyone! OUT!" barked the pint-sized Prince, in an outburst that stopped all the office monsters in their tracks. "I have urgent business with Kurama and Botan, so all of you out! Whatever you need me to sign or whatever can wait, or you can just forge my signature for all I care! Get out, now!"

The office workers, with their various papers, envelopes, and files all fled rapidly and soon enough Koenma, Botan, and Kurama were the only beings left in the large, oppressively dull room. Kurama could not help but be amused by the sheer oddity of the Spirit World.

"Koenma, I understand you have a situation that requires my unique abilities; please do tell me what it is," said Kurama.

"Yes, it's very important and requires a great deal of care," began the godling. "You see Kurama, this will be an undercover mission and will probably take quite awhile, although you'll have some time to prepare since it won't really begin until this school year has finished in about a month. It has to do with the Wizards… You are familiar with them, right?"

"I have not encountered them in several decades, but I do recall finding their 'world' useful as a hiding place back when Youko roamed free. So, yes, I am familiar with them and their ways," Kurama replied, with a very slight smirk.

"Well, that's good… And it explains a lot too," said Koenma. "But on to business. You see, it has come to our attention that a particularly troublesome wizard named Tom Riddle, his alias is Voldemort I think, has become active again. The last time he was active, he did a lot of killing and committed several other nasty crimes, although we tried to leave it to the wizards as we normally do. We were just about to send some Spirit Detectives when he was badly hurt during a raid on the home of a family called the Potters. Apparently, the mother had cast a protective spell on her child that caused Riddle's curse to backfire on him when he tried to kill the boy. In order to safeguard himself after this incident, he split his soul into pieces and attached it to various items scattered throughout the world."

"That is all rather interesting, but what exactly does it have to do with this assignment?" Kurama asked.

"I'm getting to that, hold on!" replied Koenma. "As I was saying, this splitting of his soul means that he can't be killed unless the objects that he attached the pieces to are destroyed. Now, there also happens to be a prophecy surrounding the Potter boy, the kid Riddle tried to kill. Basically, it is that one can't triumph without the other's death or something like that, I don't remember the exact wording. The wizards interpret this to mean the Potter boy has been chosen to kill Riddle, but we have a different theory, and that's what your mission will primarily be about. Our theory is that the Potter boy is actually one of the things Riddle attached his soul to, which means…"

"That, if your theory is true, killing the Potter boy is the only way to allow for Riddle's death," Kurama interjected.

"Yes, that's what it means, Kurama. But, of course, this is just a theory – the interpretation of the wizards might well be accurate as well. What I need you to do is find out whether our theory is correct or incorrect, while also watching the Potter boy while he attends school, ensuring that he isn't harmed, just in case we're wrong and all."

"And, although I'd imagine you did not tell this to Yusuke, kill the Potter boy if your theory does indeed prove to be accurate."

"Well, I was going to try to say it a little less bluntly, but yeah. If Riddle can't be killed without the boy dying first, it's just the way things are, unfortunately. And yes, I didn't tell that part to Yusuke – no way he'd accept the mission if he knew that."

"I should hope not!" Botan piped in, her eyes focused ruefully on the godling. "Koenma, you're actually ordering Kurama to kill a human boy! This is awful! There must be another way."

"I certainly hope so, but you know how many people Riddle killed the last time," Koenma replied, his voice rizing to a squeak. "This is actually a compromise with what Dad wanted to do – his idea was just to smite Potter and get it over with! At least now the kid has a chance! So… STOP LOOKING AT ME THAT WAY!"

"Indeed Botan, knowing the fallibility of Spirit World intelligence, it would not surprise me if this theory is completely absurd," said Kurama, trying to sooth the fairy girl.

"Hey! Our intelligence is top notch!" Koenma said.

"I hope not," said Botan.

"Indeed, Botan," said Kurama. "And just imagine, I was enthusiastic about this mission earlier today."

xXx

OK, that's Chapter 1, please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please no flaming.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Annoying Hopes

After adjusting his long, blonde hair slightly, so that what was not held back in a pony-tail was firmly tucked behind his ears, he scanned the tavern with his unusually golden eyes to try to spot his old man. Unsurprisingly, Hoenheim was over at the bar engaged in conversation with the toothless prune of a bartender, Tom, about something in the newspaper. So, Edward decided he should get off the stairway leading to the upper floor and find a nice, isolated booth in which to wait for the old acquaintance of his father's who, the old man had assured him, would be able to help them find the information they needed. No need to talk to Dad until it was time to get down to business, after all.

So, Edward plopped down in a shadowy booth in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron's dining area and brooded while he waited. He had been in places that were more run down than this bar, but all of those buildings had been condemned. The paint on the walls, which was supposed to be white, had been discolored by years of tobacco smoke, alcohol fumes, human spew, and God knows what else to the point that it was a green-tinted grey-yellow. All the wood in the place, from the trim and beams to the tables and chairs was in the same sad state – the stain, which was meant to keep it looking a dark chestnut brown had been worn and, in some places, peeled away over the years, making it look dull and decrepit rather than warm. Lighting was inadequately provided by a large (although still too small for the room) hearth, several junkie lamps, a candle or two, and some mystical knick-knacks positioned at the center of each table that emitted an eerie green light. Still, for all its seedier elements, the pub had a certain unpretentious, homey charm to it that, at least to Edward, was quite welcoming.

Thus, he could not repress a sense of profound irony as he thought about the fact that being on this particular version of the earth, as opposed to the one he was born on, meant that he did not feel welcome no matter where he went. Edward Elric was, after all, from what the physicist of this world, Einstein, called an alternate dimension. He had travelled here by pure chance after using himself as material in an alchemic reaction to restore his brother, Alphonse, to life. Apparently, The Gate, or Truth, or whatever it wanted to call itself had a sick sense of humor because it had deposited him close to his father, whom he loathed for his lack of being a father, and in a place where the laws of alchemy were more than a little different.

According to Hoenheim, whose advice he usually didn't take for obvious reasons, but who was definitely a true authority on alchemy, the wizards of this world were actually alchemists of a kind. Apparently, their wands, as they called those stupid sticks, acted as a type of focusing matrix that allowed them to alter the nature of their internal energies and, thereby, bypass on most occasions the need to for equivalent exchange of matter when performing a reaction. It was enough, outside of potion making and transfigurations, to have the needed energy for the reaction as opposed to the matter. Even in the case of transfiguration, the matter sacrificed wasn't so much sacrificed as temporarily, and only superficially, altered. Basically, they were skipping the middle step in the alchemic process by merely analyzing, in the form on an incantation, and constructing with their energy. A handy way to get around to work of learning the science, he thought, and so he wasn't surprised when he realized that wizards thought they were performing "magic" as opposed to science.

Although he was still able to perform his type of alchemy, "magic" did offer a way to get home that might preclude the terrible price of a Philosopher's Stone. So, naturally, he and Hoenheim had set out to learn all they could about the more archaic and mysterious aspects of magic. The problem was, like all mysterious knowledge, those things were hard to find. Supposedly, Hoenheim's old buddy could fix that problem, though, since the school he ran had an extensive and restricted library of the highest caliber. Now if only this old friend would show up, Edward wasn't known for his patience after all.

xXx

After nearly half-an-hour of brooding a strange old man, with a beard longer than Ed was tall, half-moon spectacles, and a preposterous blue velvet robe began to converse with his Hoenheim over by the bar, leading Ed to believe his man had arrived. His suspicion was confirmed when Hoenheim rose from his stool and started to walk towards him, motioning for the geezer to follow. Now, finally, they might have a hope of making some progress.

Hoenheim allowed the geezer to take the booth seat across from Edwards, and pulled up a chair for himself, so that he was situated between the two.

"Edward, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which is home I hear to the best library in the magical world," said Hoenheim. "Albus, this is my son, Edward."

"A pleasure to meet you young Edward," said Dumbledore. "And, I must say, you are the spitting image of your father."

"Even if I wanted to, I can't do much about genetics old man," replied Ed, in a sarcastic way that indicated that he didn't care for the compliment. "I hear you might be able to get us the information we need to, let's say, travel where we need to travel."

"I may, I may not," said Dumbledore, his previously twinkling eyes now more resolute and his tone more business-like. "But if the information is anywhere in the magical world it will be in the library of Hogwarts."

"Well then, may we have access to the library for research purposes, Albus?" said Hoenheim, injecting before Edward had a chance for a rude retort.

"I would be happy to allow it, but there is a little problem," said Dumbledore.

"And what's that?" said Hoenheim, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, you see my powers as Headmaster are somewhat limited, and in order to allow someone who is neither in the employ of Hogwarts nor attending access to the library, I would need the assent of a majority of the staff members. In order to attain that assent, I would most likely have to provide them with information about you and why you are making the request."

"Basically, it's impossible unless we want a bunch of nosy wizards to be in on our secrets," said Edward.

"Edward, that's enough of that," said Hoenheim, exasperated. "Besides," he added "that is not what he said."

"I take no offense Hoenheim, it's understandable that young Edward would be impatient under the circumstances," said Dumbledore. "However, you are correct that Edward's summation of my remarks is wrong. It is far from impossible for you to keep your secrets and have unfettered access to the library; we will simply have to be clever about the matter."

Hoenheim laughed knowingly.

"What sort of exchange or deal do you have in mind, Albus?"

"Well, I do not know if I would call it a deal, but an exchange it most certainly is," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling once more. "You see the Ministry of Magic has taken the liberty of forcing a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor upon me, as I was having difficulty finding one and they would rather like to ensure that the children are not encouraged to suspect the return of the Dark Lord."

"Yes, I have read their denial of the Potter boy's assertions in the papers, although I was unaware that they were this intent on perpetuating ignorance," said Hoenheim.

"That's fine and dandy old man, but can you get to the point?" said Edward.

"Yes, certainly, I just want to make sure you both understand why I am making my offer," said Dumbledore. "But, as I was saying, I am convinced of the truth of Harry Potter's words and would rather like to see my students capable of defending themselves, even if it must be in an unorthodox manner."

"Albus, I know where you're going with this," interjected Hoenheim. "But you can forget it; I am far from an expert on Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh no, my friend, I would expect you to teach Alchemy. The Ministry has spoken on the matter of the Defense Professor, and much as I would like to, save supplement my students' learning."

"Well, besides, I'm uncertain if that would suit my purposes. After all, how much time would I have available for research if I were instructing hundreds in the science of alchemy?"

"I figured that that might be an issue, and well understand that you would want to devote as much time as practicable to your research. To that end, I am prepared to restrict your course to Fifth Years and above, which would restrict your classroom commitments to three days per week."

"I should have guessed you would have thought of that," Hoenheim said with a slight chuckle. "Still, you are deliberately understating the amount of time teaching the students would take. There is the matter of the decided lack of scientific knowledge most witches and wizards possess, which will mean a lot of time spent discussing the most basic matters, such as the periodic table, the scientific method, and so on. But I suppose no matter how much I might desire not to accept, I don't have much of a choice – your library is our best hope for return. There is the problem of Edward, however. I will not accept unless he too can have access to the library."

"Well, how old is Edward here?" asked Dumbledore.

"I'm seventeen, old man," said Edward, curtly.

Dumbledore's eyes briefly widened.

"Oh, well I wouldn't have guessed, but that does work perfectly."

Edward glared at Dumbledore.

"What do you mean by that!" he said ruefully, and loudly.

"Oh nothing, I swear; but as I said it will work perfectly," said Dumbledore, with only the slightest hint of alarm. "After all, Hogwarts admits students between the ages of eleven and seventeen."

"Albus, I don't think…" said Hoenheim before being interrupted by Edward.

"Now hold on old man. I haven't attended school since I was six and, frankly, I'm pretty damn good at your 'magic.' What makes you think that being a student at your school would be anything other than annoying to me?"

"Well, Edward, I don't doubt your abilities, but people are bound to ask questions if you are randomly hanging around the library, and I would imagine being a student, who is not obligated to be vigorous in his studies, would be preferable to being a staff member, who would have certain obligations of excellence. And besides, Hoenheim would be empowered, as a Professor, to give you access to the restricted section of the library."

"Albus, as I was saying, I don't think that will work out," said Hoenheim with a small degree of resignation.

"No, I'll do it," said Edward. "Like you said earlier Hoenheim, what choice do we have if we want the information we're after?"

Hoenheim nearly fell off his chair; while Dumbledore simply smiled, his eyes twinkling brightly once more.

"I am pleased we could come to an understanding, and I do hope our exchange will prove, as you alchemists say, equivalent."

Dumbledore rose from his seat and began to make for the exit. Hoenheim intercepted him and offered a friendly handshake goodbye before returning to the table and Edward.

"We're in for an unusual experience, Edward – you're actually going to be expected to act your age at Hogwarts," said Hoenheim with a chuckle.

"Ah fuck it, like I said, we don't have a choice," said Edward contemptuously. "The thing is going to be annoying, though, with all the magic I'm going to have to learn."

"You think you have it bad, I have never so much as taught a child to ride a bike, and here I will have to instruct dozens in a science they have not the slightest inkling of an understanding of."

"Don't remind me how lacking a father you were; but yeah, I hear you. This is just stupid. Who would have thought our best hope would be so damned annoying."

xXx

Author's Note: First, the description of the Leaky Cauldron is something I made up, as I didn't want to go back and read the Harry Potter books just to find a description of the place; regardless, I hope it was satisfactory. Second, to all the people who fav'd (goth lolita and drkphoenyx), thanks. :) I wouldn't mind a review or two, though. Finally, I'd like to know if this thing is perceived by other people as remotely engaging or interesting. The next chapter will be coming quite a bit more quickly than this one, so stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in getting up another Chapter, but it was quite difficult to come up with something a little more exciting than some sort of briefing scene. I hope this chapter is interesting and reasonably useful in advancing the plot. Even so, I may edit it at some future date to add some excitement. Anyways, enjoy. :)

xXx

Chapter 3: Uncertain Encounters

Something about this decrepit, neglected side-room within the Black Family manor gave Harry Potter comfort. Since the curtains, which were made of thick, filth-entrapping velvet, prevented all traces of moonlight from entering, illumination was being provided by several magic lamps that glowed garish green. The room was chock-full of antique knick-knacks scattered across the shelves, tables, and marble mantle all of which were covered thoroughly in decades of dust – a grimy layer so established that it was less like an accumulation than an additional coat of paint. None of the furnishings looked to be less than one-hundred years old, and like the knick-knacks probably had not been cleaned in that amount of time either, except of course for the table he was sitting at. He had taken the time to dust and clean thoroughly the table's top before he covered it with his own layer of material – newspapers.

His eyes, he was always told, were quite a striking shade of green – it was so remarked upon that he rather thought that some of the kookier people out there might think he was possessed. And in a sense possessed is exactly how he felt as he read the most recent issue of _Daily Prophet_ – possessed by demons of rage, despair, and baleful bitterness. Over the early months of the summer, when he was confined at Number Four Privet Drive, he had thought enough of his fellow wizards to trust they would take his word for Voldemort's return and prepare. As a consequence, he had only ventured to glance at the _Prophet's_ headlines, figuring the return of the Dark Lord would be big news. Now he found out his supposed self-aggrandizing lies were the news items the _Prophet_ saw fit to print. How exactly the Ministry of Magic and the general wizarding world could think he might lie about the return of Voldemort was truly beyond him. Dumbledore, who was supposed to be viewed as a wizened and trustworthy figure by all, was being disregarded and the most absurd charges being made against the old sage. Harry Potter had gone from the Boy Who Lived to the Boy Who Cried Wolf in a matter of months.

He had thought the wizarding world was a place he could call home, where he might find that most illusory of human sentiments – acceptance. Now it just seemed wizards were the same as the Dursleys. All they could see in him was what they wanted – and should he attempt to counter such ideas all he could expect was ridicule and abuse. It was almost enough to make him wonder if he should even try to stop the Dark Lord anymore.

Almost – but not quite enough. Even if he was not inclined to assist his wizarding ilk at present, he still felt the profoundest hostility towards Voldemort. And from such feelings of repugnance for the creature formerly known as Tom Riddle, Harry drew, as he read the latest hit piece on him from the wizarding world's most widely read paper, the determination to redeem. If they would not accept his attempts to save their wretched lives willingly, then he would compel them by laying bare their denials and taking on the Dark Lord still more strongly. And it seemed he was, despite what he might like to think, far from alone in his feelings.

"Well, at least Dumbledore isn't just letting the Ministry ruin all efforts to fight him," mumbled Harry to himself. He turned to the story on page two of the _Prophet_ about Hogwarts' latest faculty additions. He read over the first few paragraphs for the third time that morning:

_Hogsmeade, Scotland – This paper has just learned that, at the initiative of Headmaster Dumbledore, Hogwarts has hired two new staff members to teach heretofore neglected subjects. The two new professors, one of whom hails from Germany and the other from Japan, have been identified as Messrs. Hoenheim Elric and Kurama Minamino who shall teach the subjects of Alchemy and Demonology respectively._

"_The subjects of Demonology and of Alchemy are long overlooked but genuinely important fields of study, which every self-respecting witch and wizard ought to be at least basically familiar with," said Mr. Dumbledore when asked about the hirings. "Mr. Minamino is a premier expert in the field of Demonology; and Mr. Elric is an old friend who I can attest to from personal experience as the single best alchemist currently living."_

_The Ministry of Magic has declined to comment, although rumors which this reporter believes to be credible suggest that it views these hirings as a ploy on the part of the Headmaster to circumvent requirements that the Ministry has placed upon the Defense Against the Dark Arts program at Hogwarts. The Ministry is apparently particularly upset that the courses shall be offered on a mandatory basis for Fifth through Seventh years, instead of as electives. They continue to fret that Mr. Dumbledore has lost touch with what his students truly need from their studies and that he is only serving to alarm and inflame the student body._

Here was evidence that not all was lost, although he had to admit to himself that if he had not been so utterly enraged at first discovering the general apathy towards the return of Voldemort, he would have more readily seen more such evidence all around him. The Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore, and even Ron and Hermione were doing all they could to prepare and to make-up for the decided lack of general urgency with their own feverish exertions. He would have to start appreciating that soon. Right now, however, he was too absorbed in moping and there was not much that could stop him from further indulging in the mournful activity.

He sipped at a cup of coffee briefly and started to read the article again, when he heard the voice of Mrs. Weasley call out for him.

"Harry, dear, there's a visitor for you on Order business!"

He set his coffee aside quite quickly and let the paper drop to the floor.

"Coming, Mrs. Weasley!"

He stood and almost sprinted from the room, through several narrow and dark corridors, until he came to the kitchen from whence he had heard Mrs. Weasley. The portly, red-haired woman was busying herself over several pots of bubbling foodstuffs when he entered the room.

"Mrs. Weasley, you said I had a visitor?" said Harry.

"Oh, Harry, there you are," said she with relief evident in her voice. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore arrived with one of those new teachers several minutes ago and wishes to talk to you. They're in the front room."

"OK, thanks Mrs. Weasley," said he, barely bothering to wave to her as he dashed off to the front room. He went through several more corridors, these slightly less dirty and quite a bit better illuminated than the prior halls, as he made his way towards the large room near the entrance to the house. Upon reaching his destination, which was a room containing several sitting nooks and many bookshelves, all thoroughly paneled in carved maple and furnished Victorian style, he found Dumbledore seated in the cushiest armchair, closest to the single, gigantic fireplace at the center of the farthest wall. Pacing urgently next to the Headmaster was a tall, blonde-haired, bearded man of medium build. He wore a black cloak, which was open at the front so as to look rather like an overcoat, and underneath what appeared to be a well-tailored, charcoal-grey muggle business suit; although this three-piece affair looked more like something Harry had seen in a 1930's film than anything his Uncle Vernon might wear to a business dinner. The man spotted him.

"Hello there, you are Harry Potter I presume," said he, in a friendly baritone. "My name is Hoenheim Elric; I'm an old friend of Albus here and your newest professor at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I read about you in the paper," said Harry. "Mrs. Weasley said you were here on Order business?"

"Yes, I have some questions to ask you regarding two of your encounters with Voldemort," said Hoenheim, suddenly quite a bit more serious. He gestured towards the arm-chair opposite Dumbledore's, which Harry took as a request to sit down and talk.

After closing the door and seating himself, Harry got a better look at this Hoenheim Elric in the fire light. He had lengthy hair pulled back into a pony-tail, although due to the singularly square shape of the man's head and jaw, as well as the full beard, he looked leonine instead of effeminate. After a few more paces in front of the fire, he began his questioning.

"I understand that during your first year at Hogwarts you had an encounter with the Dark Lord over something that was apparently a Philosopher's Stone," he began. "The stone, of course, is an alchemic object and as an alchemist I'm interested in whether it was, in fact, genuine."

"Well, why wouldn't it have been real, I mean Flamel was immortal until the Stone got destroyed," replied Harry.

"Mr. Potter, a real Philosopher's Stone would have made Nicholas Flamel truly immortal, meaning he would have lived even if the Stone were destroyed. Its power is to defy the laws of nature, not simply to bend them." Hoenheim looked briefly at Dumbledore, and then back at Harry. "I must say, though, that it speaks well of Mr. Flamel's moral sense that he did not create a genuine Stone. No one ever has done it, but from what I know of the object it requires the sacrifice of not a few human lives."

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "We never came across anything that said that, and Hermione did a whole lot of research."

"I would be shocked if you did come across that information. Such information is not written down in anything other than the vaguest and most obscure terms precisely because no responsible, decent person would ever want a Stone to be made, given what it costs. But I should get to the relevant point; I need you to try to remember what Voldemort wanted from the Stone."

"Huh, well obviously immortality," said Harry, somewhat incredulously.

"Are you absolutely certain?" said the alchemist, looking Harry direct in the eyes. "He did not seem simply to be trying to regain his body, but also seemed convinced of the possibility of immortality?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Well, I must say that is a great relief," said Hoenheim, and spotting Harry's confused look, elaborated. "You see, if he thought true immortality was within his grasp, he did not realize the Stone he was after was a well made fake. As powerful as that object was, it was not real, probably having been created through some mix of alchemy and magic. But if Voldemort thought it was real, it means he probably has no clue how a genuine stone is constituted…"

"So he won't be going around looking for human sacrifices is what you're saying," interrupted Harry, sounding mildly relieved.

"Yes, it is one less thing for you and the Order to worry about. When Albus told me of that adventure during your first year, the possibility that Voldemort might still wish to make a Stone came immediately to my mind, and so I simply had to get an answer to that question, you understand, Mr. Potter"

"Of course," said Harry. "But, Mr. Elric, can I ask you something?"

"Certainly, I'm in no hurry."

"What help will alchemy be against Voldemort. I mean, it's obviously powerful, but I always thought, given what Hermoine was able to find, that it was rather like potions and rather slow to work."

"Well yes, it is more like potions than any other wizarding discipline, and depending on what one wishes to accomplish, it can be slow. Certainly, the process of making a Stone, for example, takes quite some time; however, more basic alchemical reactions, given proper training, can be easily and rapidly performed. And what's more, alchemy is performed without a wand, so it can provide a back-up should your wand be lost or broken. You will have to wait for school to get anything in depth, but if you're quite curious about it, I recommend you read Chapters 5-6 of the assigned textbook – _An Introduction to Alchemy_."

"No, that's all right, it was just something that occurred to me," said Harry, looking rather sheepish. He then glanced over at Dumbledore, who had been listening intently to Harry and Hoenheim's exchange. "Professor Dumbledore, what about this other teacher, what help will he be? I mean, it doesn't sound like we can be too sure about him."

"Oh, Harry, always eager I see," said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye. "I have been assured by the Nippon Ministry, which is to say the Japanese Ministry, that this Professor Minamino is eminently capable. And don't you give me that skeptical look; the Nippon Ministry is quite a bit more reliable than our own – they have been quite vigorous recently in tracking down former Death Eaters in their jurisdiction."

Harry looked visibly encouraged. "One more thing, Professor, how exactly did you get all this past the Ministry?"

"Oh, well, it's quite a delightful little saga. The Ministry really had no idea exactly what alchemy entailed at first, so when I asked their acquiescence in an alchemy course, they quickly approved it. When they actually bothered to research the discipline, which is sadly near dead in areas outside of Eastern Europe, they were more alarmed and tried to renege; a prospect I made clear to them might lead to some embarrassing stories in the _Prophet_ regarding the Ministry's lack of knowledge on alchemy. With the prospect of egg on his face, Cornelius, that is Minister Fudge, was suddenly less alarmed.

"The recruitment of this Minamino fellow was no trouble at all. When I wrote the Nippon Ministry with an inquiry, I received a prompt reply and the name of a Professor who would teach the course, provided I agreed to accept a transfer student from one of Japan's magical academies who would study western magical techniques, which are, from what I know, thoroughly different than Japanese practices. To this, I said yes, and that was that. The Nippon Ministry sent an official notification of the arrangement to our Ministry, with a not so subtle hint that if they did not agree to the proposal, diplomatic relations would be adversely affected. Now you can imagine that the Ministry, with all the pressure it currently faces, was not too interested in starting a diplomatic row with Japan over some obscure new subject at Hogwarts."

"That's showing 'em, then," said Harry, with amusement and delight dancing across his face.

"Well, the Ministry will surely retaliate at some point, so I dare say it may be a pyrrhic victory; however, for the moment it is, I confess, satisfying to me as well," said the old Headmaster, eyes twinkling more than ever. "But enough of these serious matters," Dumbledore stood and put a hand on Hoenheim's shoulder. "Hoenheim, Harry, I fancy Molly is quite done preparing a delightful dinner and we should have the courtesy of joining the other before it gets cold."

Harry stood as well and followed Dumbledore and the new Professor out of the front room and back towards the kitchen. He was at least comforted by this newcomer and Dumbledore's clear confidence, but he still could not help being uneasy and unsatisfied. New teachers and new subjects were all well and good, but could anyone learn enough about them in time for them to be useful against Voldemort?

xXx

Well, that's the end of that. Please read and review to let me know what you think. The next chapter will probably have a train or Diagon Alley scene and be from the perspective of either Kurama or Yusuke. Then we get to the real action at Hogwarts.


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